The Good Ones
by DarthAbby
Summary: "The good ones are always gay or taken" It's just Jess' luck that the guy she wants is both. And, on top of that...incestuous? Wincest, implied Weecest, onesided Jess/Sam, onesided Jess/OC. Rated for drinking, implied sex, and maybe actual sex in 2nd chapter if there's enough interest, oneshot for now. Cover pic is not mine.


**So, um…yeah. I made a thing. It's probably really bad, but I'm going to post it before I lose my nerve. I'm forever a Destiel girl, but Wincest is…well, it is an interesting concept, and I'd be lying if I said that sometimes I don't prefer to click on Sam's name instead of Cas' when I'm looking for a good smutty fanfic involving Dean.**

**Not that this is all that smutty. No, not for my first foray into this territory, I'm not comfortable just yet writing a sex scene. But anyways, here you go. And, of course, none of this belongs to me.**

**000**

"Sorry, Jess," Emily Jones laughed, "But you know what they say about the good ones!"

"'They're all gay or taken'," Jessica Moore quoted with a roll of her eyes. "But Sam definitely isn't gay, and he's not taken, either."

"Are you sure?" Emie asked with a grin.

"Yes!" Jess rolled her eyes again. Her roommate was more persistent than an annoying little sister sometimes. "He's never mentioned a girlfriend, _or_ a boyfriend, and I've yet to see him check out any guys, either."

"Yeah, but Winchester isn't checking out the girls, either," Emie pointed out.

"Maybe he's already got his eye on someone," the blonde countered smugly.

The brunette rolled her eyes this time and whacked her roommate with a pillow. "You're so full of yourself."

"It could be true!" Jess insisted, giving Emie a solid blow with her own pillow. The argument quickly disintegrated into an all-out pillow fight, and somehow spread to the whole hall, girls running around in pajamas and hitting whatever moved with pillows in various pillow cases that raged from solid colors to cartoon characters and even one that, for some reason, looked like an old fashioned, blue, British telephone booth.

When Jess finally made it back to her bed, tired but grinning, she silently promised to make Sam Winchester hers.

000

"Sam!"

The tall, shaggy haired sophomore turned as his name was called to see a familiar blonde running towards him.

"Hey, Jess," Sam greeted his friend casually as she slowed to a stop next to him. "Where's the fire?"

Jess rolled her eyes and punched him in the arm, unable to answer until she got her breath back. Sam waited with an air of amused patience until she was no longer panting.

"I was," she swallowed against the dryness in her mouth. "I was wondering if you were free this afternoon. My science prof. canceled class, so if you're free, maybe we could grab a coffee or something?"

"Yeah, sure," Sam smiled at her crookedly. "I've only got morning and evening classes today."

"Great!" she grinned, maybe a little too widely, but she couldn't help it. "Mel's around 2?"

"Sounds like a plan," he agreed, turning to head towards his next class. "See ya later, Jess!"

"See ya!" she called after him, resisting the urge to do a happy dance in the middle of campus.

They continued on that way for several weeks, meeting up for coffee when their breaks lined up, hanging out at one or the other's dorm when Sam didn't have evening classes, helping each other study, all the 'normal' things. Jess, in her own mind, considered them practically dating, but Sam still seemed to be comfortable with just friendship. He never stayed over, never invited her to stay over, never touched her more than necessary, and only seemed amused by the half-assed attempts by other guys to ask her out.

As Jess turned down her latest pursuer (who had legitimately tried to use the Jamaica pick-up line on her while she was ordering her coffee) and headed over towards the table Sam had already claimed for them, she rolled her eyes and grinned as he nearly died of laughter.

"Did he," Sam managed to get out between laughs. "Did he really – just try to – use the _corniest_ – line in existence – on you?"

Jess leaned forward and lowered her voice in a mocking imitation of the guy who had practically run out the door after the rejection. "'Hey, baby,'" she quoted with a smirk, "'Are you Jamaican? 'Cause you're Jamaican me crazy.'"

Sam was practically howling with mirth, and it must've been infectious, because Jess found herself joining in, laughing herself to hiccups.

"Aha, ahaha," Sam chuckled weakly as he calmed down, "That poor bastard," he shook his head, still smiling. "He must've spent days practicing that in front of the mirror, too."

"How –hic– d'you know –hic–?" Jess asked, still smiling despite the hiccups making her throat ache.

"He's been in here every day for the past two weeks," Sam explained, unable to stop grinning as well. "He doesn't stay long unless you're here, too."

"How do you –hic– know he's not after you?" Jess questioned, half teasing and half digging.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Considering that he just tried to pick you up, and that –" he stopped abruptly, a light blush coloring his cheeks.

"And…?" Jess prodded, her heart racing. Oh, God, if Sam had tried to ask the guy out…Jess really, _really_ wanted Sam to be straight. Of course, if he was gay, that was fine, they could still be friends, but she hoped he wasn't.

"Have you started working on that _Brave New World_ analysis yet?" he tried to change the topic, but Jess wasn't going to be thrown off that easily.

"Sam, come –hic– on," she cajoled, giving one last hiccup. "And what?"

"And _nothing_," he grumbled. "So, are you going to focus on the dystopian aspects or how John's character development, or really, regression, drives the plot?"

"Sam…"

"Drop it, Jess, it's nothing," he snapped. Scowling, Jess rose from her seat, and stalked out the door without another word. If Sam wouldn't give her answers, and was going to be mean about it, she wasn't going to put up with it. She hurried off in what she hoped was the right direction, and was proved right when the person she was looking for was suddenly on a bench right in front of her.

"Hey, Mark," she sat down next to him, ignoring his incredulous look. "I'm sorry for turning you down like that," she apologized. "But you picked the wrong line, and the wrong girl. I'm just…I'm not interested in you. Sorry."

"But you are interested in someone," he said shrewdly, raising an eyebrow. "And, well, it's okay," he sighed. "I knew it was a long shot to begin with."

Thankful he wasn't bitter, Jess pressed on. "Well, I am interested in someone," she admitted.

"Who?" Mark asked, before a look of understanding came over him. "_Oooh._ You've got the hots for Winchester, don't you?" Her blush was all the answer he needed. "Well, 'fraid you're barking up the wrong tree, there."

"Why?" she asked, feeling apprehension rising in her chest.

"Well," he shifted uncomfortably, "I think – I'm pretty sure he's taken."

"What makes you say that?"

"I, ah," it was Mark's turn to blush now, "We're in the same building, our rooms are across from each other, and one night I went over to see if Sam would help me with my History paper and he, ah," he rubbed his hand awkwardly on the back of his neck, "He was literally sitting in the closet, with the door closed, having a very, um, _interesting _phone conversation."

Jess' eyes widened. "He was having _phone sex_?" she gasped quietly, trying not to draw too much attention from passerby.

"I think so," he nodded uncomfortably, "But it was," he hesitated, blush deepening.

"You can tell me, Mark," Jess put a hand on his shoulder. "It was what?"

"It was," he swallowed, "I think it was with another guy."

_Taken AND gay?_ Jess cursed her luck. "How do you know?"

"Well," he rubbed his neck again, "I don't think that many girls are named Dean. Or that they have a, and I quote, 'delicious, thick dick'." Mark's face was close to resembling a ripe tomato by now. "Needless to say, I left pretty fast."

"And," Jess swallowed, trying to hold on to a vain hope, "And you don't think he was just calling up a phone sex hotline? I mean, he could be bi, but isn't comfortable going after any of the guys here."

"Jess, I'm sorry," Mark said, genuinely apologetic. "But, from what I heard…well, it sounded more like when my roommate calls his girlfriend back home then when the guy two doors down is horny, bored, and without a date."

Jess' nose wrinkled slightly – she did _not_ need that much information about life in the boys' dorm – and her heart fell. Sam was, without a doubt now, completely and utterly out of reach. "Thanks for telling me, Mark," she sighed, standing up.

"Hey, Jess?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. At least now I know not to waste time trying to get his attention."

She walked away without another word, heart somehow heavy and light at the same time. They could still be friends, after all – well, as soon as Sam's pride and her own wilted enough for them to apologize to each other. It honestly wasn't a huge deal that he was gay and had a boyfriend, as all that meant was that she would have to look elsewhere. And she could do that. She had a whole college campus full of boys at her fingertips, and practically the whole world once she graduated. She would find someone, eventually.

000

It took nearly a month for Sam and Jess to fall back into their old friendship, but they were finally comfortable around each other again. And, currently, laughing about how the rest of their friends were stuck trying to finish an English paper last minute after the two had told them over and over again to work on it sooner. So while everyone else was in the library, Sam and Jess were hanging out in her room, celebrating their forethought with some of the alcohol that can always be found somewhere in a dorm room.

Jess was teetering between tipsy and drunk, laying on her bed with her head hanging over the edge, giggling at the upside-down view of Sam sitting on the floor, leaning against Emie's bed. Sam himself was getting pretty sloshed, too, despite a surprisingly high tolerance level that Jess hadn't expected from the bookworm.

Feeling brave from all the liquid courage in her system, Jess found herself voicing a question that had been niggling at her since her chat with Mark. "Hey, Sh-am?" she slurred.

"Hmm?"

"Who's – who's Dean?"

Some of the alcohol-induced haze left his eyes, but with fewer reservations, Sam found himself answering anyways. "He'sh my – my brotthhhher."

"No, no, no," Jess shook her head slowly. "He – he can't be, caush Mark – Mark shaid dat he – he heard you havin' pphhhhone phone sex with Dean."

Sam nodded slowly. "Yeah."

"Sho, sho he's _not_ your brrrother?"

"No, he – he ish."

"But, but, but," Jess trailed off, trying to connect the pieces through the fog in her mind.

"D-Dean and I," Sam slurred, still nodding sagely, "We're – we're – we're like _made_ for eacsh otherrr, y'know? I mean – I mean he'sh blood, but, but, but, I _love_ him, and, and he lovesh _me_. We're _betterrrr_ than brothersh, y'know?"

Jessica nodded, feeling somehow wiser than ever, and stupider, at the same time. "Like – like - like _shoulmatesh_."

Sam giggled. "Yeah, I – I like that. Shoulmate. My brottthhhher ish my soulmate."

"How – how long have you been togggether?" she questioned.

"Long, _long_ time," Sam was still nodding slightly, or maybe that was just Jess' vision going. "He'sh – he'sh four years older 'n me, and, and, and the firsht time we kisshed, I was, I was sheventeen, an' he was tw'nty one. It was hish birthday, and, and, and he could finally buy beer without a fake ID, and," Sam giggled again, "An' we both got drunk and, and, and then I kisshed him and he kisshed me and we never looked back." He was grinning and nodding more forcefully now, lost in the memories.

Jess giggled and smiled at him. "'m glad that – that Dean makesh you happy. I wanted, I wanted to be the one to make you happpppy, but then Mark, Mark told me about Dean, and, and, and, and I realizshed that you don't, you don't need me to be happy, caushe you've got your Dean."

"My Dean," Sam smiled dreamily, "Yeah, I, I like that. _My_ Dean. And – and I'm hish Sh–Sammy."

"That's right, Sammy," a new voice, this one clear of intoxication, spoke up, and Jess watched blearily as a man, broader then Sam but not quite as tall, walked in and helped her friend to his feet. "You're all mine." The new man – her mind slowly identified him as the mysterious Dean – glanced over at her and smiled. "I'm gonna get him out of here before either of you embarrass yourselves."

She nodded dumbly, and didn't protest when he used the hand not holding Sam up to carefully move her so that her head was no longer hanging off the edge of her bed. "Bye Sham," she said sleepily, "Bye Dean."

Dean merely chuckled and helped Sam to the door as her friend bid her goodnight. She was asleep before they even made it to the doorway, and so missed the sloppy but gentle kiss the brothers shared before leaving the girls' dorms and making their slow, stumbling way to a near-perfect condition classic car, where Sam's kisses grew more insistent, and Dean gave in, crawling into the backseat with his brother to make his beloved car shudder and shake.

**000**

**Hey look! You finished it! Know what would let me know you didn't bug out halfway through and so raise my confidence? A review!**

**And if my confidence is raised enough, I might even consider making a second chapter about what exactly Sam and Dean got up to in the Impala. Yeah, that's right, I'd go out of my comfort zone and write you guys a sex scene. And not just any sex scene, a **_**Wincest**_** sex scene. So, is that enough of a bribe to get you to review?**


End file.
